myweekandwelcometoit

Saturday, August 11, 2012

Rubber Ducky

Hello World, A great big, multi-colored, heart-pounding, Olympic-sized greeting to you and the rest of your team! From the remotest cave on the highest mountaintop, to the darkest trench in the deepest ocean, it would be impossible to miss the Summer Olympic Games taking place in jolly old London this time around, and certainly making all sorts of noise, not only on an international level, but probably also the farthest reaches of outer space in galaxies that haven't even been discovered yet. In fact, my sister says that the Klingons and Romulans from her annual BBQ have been contacting her regularly for updates on the gymnastics results - that is, after their first love, which of course, is fencing. In fact, the Romulans wanted to compete in the "chain link" category, while the Klingons thought they would be the team to beat in "stockade," but I'm afraid the extra-terrestrial language barrier made them a little confused as to what the sport actually entailed, and more's the pity, I'm sure. Frankly, I wouldn't envy the country that tried to compete against the aliens in building a fence, and that's not just a lot of dilithium crystals, believe me. In other news, as they say at the college football games: "You can stick a fork in this one, because it's done." The results are in, and last month set a new record for being the hottest July in the country's history, since they first began keeping records in 1895. And I will say that this should come as no surprise to anyone who lived through it, or should I say, melted through it, and that's not just whistling "This Land is Your Land," by golly. In fact, last month broke the heat record set in July 1936 at the height of the Dust Bowl, only we didn't have Woody Guthrie singing songs about us like they did back then, from the redwood forests to the New York islands, not to mention, trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored. And not resting on its laurels, so far 2012 has been the hottest 7 months on record, and also the hottest 12-month period ever from August 2011 - July 2012, which should also come as no surprise to anybody. So, stop the presses and re-write the record books, because this aptly named month of Julius is the new all-time Caesar of Celsius, and the late lamented Woody Guthrie with his Dust Bowl ditties can just go off riding the rails into meteorological oblivion, from California to the Gulf stream waters, and take his grapes of wrath right along with him, by Jove. Speaking of heat, while it may seem impossible, people have actually started playing professional football already, and not just escaped mental patients and outer space aliens who don't know any better, but actual recognizable players on real valid NFL teams - and you don't have to take my word for it, because you can honestly see them yourself on genuine television, and no goal post jive about it. I know it doesn't seem remotely possible to me, when I haven't even finished putting away my camping laundry, and here's the pride of the gridiron already playing games for TV audiences, as if there isn't already enough going on with baseball and the Olympics as it is, for heaven's sake. Heck, it's a whole 7 months to the Super Bowl, putting this on an anachronistic par with the Christmas music catalogs at church in May, and it goes without saying, thanks so very much not. In light of the prevailing temperatures, I hope at a minimum that they're playing at indoor arenas with plenty of air conditioning, and frankly, snow-making equipment might not be out of the question either. At least it would give the escaped mental patients and outer space aliens something to do, and maybe give them a chance to practice their alpine skills for the upcoming Winter Olympics while they're at it. I hear that the Klingons are partial to curling, while the Romulans have bobsled fever - although personally, I think the cloaking devices are just way too much of an unfair advantage in any case. And as long as we're off the beaten track here, fortunately for modern humanity, there's the ubiquitous snack-of-all-trades known as trail mix to keep us all going throughout our busy days, whether navigating the treacherous rocky shoals of office politics, or hiking in the trackless wastes of the great outdoors. Of course, it seems like there's always been classic trail mix, with its healthy combination of fruits and nuts, but now if you scope out this section at your local grocery retailer, you will notice that the category has proliferated exponentially to include such diverse offerings as: Mediterranean Blend Spicy Cajun Cranberry Nut Power Blast Asian Fusion Energy Boost Morning Medley Tropical Harvest We were at the store last week when we spotted the newest addition to this wide-ranging line-up, which is something they identify, and apparently without irony, as Caramel Crunch, believe it or not. Now, to my way of thinking, this is not so much trail mix as Fiddle Faddle, and if anybody tries to convince me this is good for you, I can tell you that I will go all the way around Robin Hood's barn, and eat my proverbial hat, before I will begin to fall for a whopper like that one. And so here we have basically a carbon copy of what already happened to yogurt, which is good for you and tastes like it, so people wouldn't eat it - that is, until they came along with frozen yogurt, that happens to be more like an ice cream sundae in a cup, and is even worse for you than ice cream to start with. Now skulking along in these same footsteps, they have inexorably started to super-size trail mix, so you may as well eat a whole box of Ring Dings instead. Well, they can't just foist this Caramel Crunch trail mix on me, like I just fell off the frozen yogurt truck, and that's not just the Fiddle Faddle talking, believe me. Even more off the beaten track, the time had finally come, and in fact it was long since past due, that I was so sick and tired of the stupid little lot where we had to park, that I trekked all the way over to Personnel and begged them to re-assign me back to the main employee lot, where I had once been so happy and carefree. They could not have been more accommodating, and in short order, I bid a hearty "Good riddance" to what I considered the stupid little children's table, and said I was going to go back and feast with the adults once again. Since then, it's been a great boon to rejoin the contented throngs in the big lot, which not only lives up to its name by being vastly enormous, but it's also much easier to get in and out of from the main thoroughfare, and not tucked away in some remote wilderness off a derelict side street. Even better, you don't take your life in your hands trying to cross the road, where the so-called pedestrian crosswalk is just an open invitation to run people over from every conceivable direction, including some that only outer space aliens would have any need for. The main lot offers parking spaces for probably hundreds of cars, and in this expansive sea of vehicles, I could not have been more astonished to stumble across yet another car sporting an unsightly rubber diaper on its rear end, and even more incredible, it was yet a different product from a separate manufacturer than the other three I had already seen in the past. You would think this would be impossible, and yet, I saw it with my own eyes, so I know it's true. This model was from our friends at Bumper Badger (and they invite you to go right ahead and visit their web site at www.bumperbadger.com and see for yourself) which they tell me is "The First and Last Name in Bumper Protection." Now this is the fourth one of these I've seen around the hospital, which makes me wonder if parking around our campus is all that dangerous, so that people feel compelled to hide their cars in layers of defensive garments, like medieval knights in chain mail and helmets. Or the other possibility that suggests itself, however unwillingly, is that enterprising representatives of these companies are out there prowling around likely locations, and surreptitiously attach the rubber rompers to unattended vehicles, which then act as promotional bumper stickers, as the drivers go blithely along with these mobile billboards flapping behind them for all the world to see. Say, maybe the Klingons and Romulans had the right idea with their cloaking devices after all. Elle

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